


Universal Lost and Found

by OneOfThoseThings



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Amnesia, Angst and Feels, But this is definitely a Martha/Donna fic, Definitely not just lacking transitions, Doctor/Donna and Doctor/Martha are heavily implied, Donna Noble Deserved Better, Donna Noble Fix-It, F/F, Fic is written and updates will be posted daily (in case you have WIP trust issues like me), Fix-It, Fluff and Humor, Friendship/Love, I mean the episode but I like how dramatic that tag looks, Ignores the End of Time, Martha Jones Deserves Better, Martha Jones Is a Star, Memory Alteration, Mild Sexual Content, Rating Rounded Up (for Safety), Time Skips, You know how some fics are marked with a / when they should be an & well this is not that, a story told in snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28526559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneOfThoseThings/pseuds/OneOfThoseThings
Summary: Martha runs across a mind-wiped Donna and helps her (re)claim what the Universe owes her.A/N about the ship tags: I have this theory that Doctor/Martha and Doctor/Donna shippers (and most people, really) would also be completely willing to entertain Donna/Martha because we all just want nice things for Donna and Martha. And this fix-it fic is dedicated to that premise.
Relationships: (IMPLIED), (also implied), Martha Jones/Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor/Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor/Martha Jones
Comments: 88
Kudos: 72





	1. Chance Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Quercusrobur, my beloved beta reader!
> 
> And shout out to the many people who went absolutely HAM in the notes on the [random little comic](https://1-of-those-things.tumblr.com/post/638115336041988096/mistletoe-secular) I put up on tumblr awhile back. Clearly we need more Martha/Donna content in the world.

The thing about Zygons was that they were nearly impossible to reason with. And they were skittish! And they were as fast as whatever form they decided to take on. Which was why Martha was currently chasing a stray cat through a back alley. 

“I’m really sorry,” she said, again. “You shouldn’t have even felt the injection! You must have an allergy that wasn’t in your file!” 

The either-cat-or-Zygon shot a suspicious look back at her before kicking off at a sharp angle through a door that had just barely begun to open. Someone shrieked, startled, and gave Martha a window to barge her way in after it. She found herself in a kitchen of some kind. 

“I’m with UNIT,” she said, flashing either her ID or possibly a bus pass, catching the bristle-brush tail as it whipped out of the kitchen. 

“Oi, is that a _cat?!_ ” An oddly familiar voice rang out from the other side. 

Martha slammed out after it and just barely managed not to knock a waiter top-over-teakettle. “Has anyone seen―? Oh! Donna!” 

The ginger temp whirled around, blinking. “…Yeah?” 

Martha peered around. “Have you seen a― well, it looks like a cat…?”

Donna frowned, already pointing. “How do you mean ‘looks like?’”

Martha followed her finger to a corner booth, crouching down. “Listen, just come back with me and I can use a different― No, don’t!” She made a blind grab, but the Zygon-or-cat slipped through her hands like an eel, making a beeline for the door. “I said I was sorry!” she shouted after it. 

There was an odd little pause in which Martha realized that the entire pub was watching the scene, including the two men with their knees snatched up into the booth she was now half under. 

“Er,” she said. “Sorry.” 

“Are you all right?” 

Martha turned, never more relieved to hear Donna sounding a bit judgmental. “Just fine,” she said, rolling to her feet and looking around for pinstripes and converse. “Are you here alone?” 

“Yeah, unless you’re counting these four other people,” Donna said sarcastically. 

The blonde standing next to her seemed to reanimate. “Donna, do you _know_ this loon?”

Donna screwed up her face, throwing her arms out. “How would I―?“

“Martha Jones,” Martha interrupted. “I’m with UNIT.” She flashed her ID, or possibly her phone card from travelling last week. “Donna, any chance you could help? I’ve got a slight problem with a… rhymes with ‘bygone.’” 

Donna squinted at her so hard it looked like she put her back into it. “You want _me_ to help you find your cat? I don’t even know you!” 

That brought Martha up short. “Really? I thought you and I were in the same timestream… Um. Never mind! Enjoy your night!” She beat a hasty retreat out the door. 

* * *

It took another fifteen minutes, but Martha finally cornered what she was really hoping was a Zygon, but was really starting to suspect was a stray cat. She crept closer, trying for a soothing tone in either case. 

“Listen,” she said. “I’m really sorry about the unexpected scare, but you really need to come back to the lab with me to get checked for any other reactions. You shouldn’t have felt it at all!” 

The Zygon/cat eyed her warily, pressed back against the bricks. 

“I promise I’m not trying to hurt you,” Martha continued, creeping closer. “I was in favor of the accords, you know. It’s why I volunteered for the clinic!” Yellow eyes flicked to the side and then the furry little body shot past her like a missile. “No, don’t―!” 

“Got ya!” A familiar voice crowed, followed by a chorus of muffled yowls. 

“Donna!” Martha spun around to find the ginger holding a large mass of wriggling wool. “What’s that?”

“It’s my scarf, isn’t it?” Donna tucked it closer like a hastily swaddled baby. “Don’t know what you were thinking, going after a cat with just your bare hands. Is this your first time with any animal? Ever?” 

“Well, it’s not really a cat. It’s a Zygon.” The Zygon in question let out an impressively cat-like caterwaul. “An _overreacting_ Zygon!” she added. “Honestly, one stray prick in a medical procedure and you’d think it was Area 51.” She took the bundle from Donna, trying to get a feel for how the creature was positioned. 

“…Are you all right?” Donna asked. “Do you want me to call someone to come get you?” 

“Nah, I don’t need the Doctor for this. Just a misunderstanding, really.” Martha got a feel for where the feet were and tried to hold it more comfortably, ducking her head and raising her voice. “You can change back anytime, you know.”

“…Right…” Donna pulled her cell out. “Which doctor was that? Do you remember their name? I could call just in case.” 

“What?” Martha looked up at her, confused. “Did he tell _you_ his name? He said he couldn’t!” She sighed dramatically. “I know he likes you better, but honestly, you’d think I’d at least make it to ‘name’ status.” 

Donna was giving her a very strange look. “Sweetheart, I think you might be confused. I don’t know who you’re talking about.” 

“What?” Martha asked. “How out of sync _are_ we? I’m talking about the Doctor! Even if you haven’t met me yet, you must know the Doctor by now.” She glanced down at Donna’s hands. The faint scar on her forearm was visible― a badge she’d said came from the Oodsphere. 

“You know it’s the silliest thing,” Donna said in that strangely soft tone. “I can’t seem to remember the doctor’s name just now. Could you tell me? Just to jog my memory?” 

“Donna, I’ve just said he never told me― Oh, no...” A little boy walking by the alley cast an overly suspicious look in, and tripped like he wasn’t quite used to his own legs. “Aw, this is just a cat isn’t it?” 

“...Pretty sure it is, yeah,” Donna said. “Now how about you tell me who I can call for you?” 

“What?” Martha was already heading for the not-really-a-little-boy. “Hey! I’m sorry about the prick earlier! It was just a misunderstanding!” The boy turned on his heels, clearly looking for somewhere to run. “No, don’t run! I really can― Ah, damn it!” Martha tucked the cat under her arm and took off after him. “I’ll bring your scarf back tomorrow!” she shouted over her shoulder.

Donna sputtered objections, but Martha was already back on the trail. 


	2. Scanning

It didn’t take long to look Donna up in UNIT’s database. They kept excellent tabs on anyone who’d travelled with the Doctor and even better tabs on anyone who’d saved the Universe. Martha had only saved this world and she had her own filing cabinet. Jack had three. 

Martha got the scarf dry cleaned and decided to bring it over herself on her lunch break. She found the woman who’d saved the Universe in a supply closet, fussing over binder tabs. 

“Donna? I brought your scarf.” 

Donna jumped, rattling a tray of paperclips. “My what? Oh, it’s you!” She slapped a hand over the paperclips, stilling them. “Are you doing better? Hang on, how’d you find me?” 

“UNIT, remember?” Martha flicked the ID at her hip with her free hand. 

“What sort of psych ward goes by ‘unit?’” Donna asked, but came closer, looking curious. 

“Is he calling us a psych ward now? Bit rude considering everything we’ve done for him over the years.” Martha nonetheless held out the scarf. “Where is he anyway?”

Donna took the scarf like she was accepting a live grenade. “Who are you talking about? Have you still not found your doctor?” 

“Oh, ‘my’ Doctor, is it? What’s he done now?“ Something in Donna’s expression seemed off. “Hang on, are you really not with the Doctor right now? Did something happen?” 

Donna looked around the supply closet like someone might be hiding behind one of the shelves. “Er. I really have no idea―“

“You said that scar came from the Oodsphere,” Martha pointed at her arm. “We can’t be _that_ out of sync!” 

Donna went very still. “You know where I got this scar?” 

“Well, I know where you said you got it,” Martha said, shrugging. “Weird thing to lie about, Donna.” 

Donna’s expression sharpened. “You’ve met me,” she said slowly and very clearly. “At some point between 2006 and 2008?” 

Martha frowned, but nodded. “Yeah. Of course. 2008 sounds right.” She looked around the storeroom, eying some cleaning products in the corner. “How long have you been in here? It’s not terribly well-ventilated is it?” 

“Could you―?” Donna’s hand closed over her wrist, making her jump, and she immediately let go. “Could you tell me how you know me? Over coffee, maybe?” 

Martha frowned at her. “Donna,” she said slowly. “Do you _really_ not know who I am?” 

Donna visibly screwed up her courage and said, “I think I’ve lost something.” She gestured to her own head. “But I can’t remember what.” She gave Martha a careful, hopeful look. “You’re the first person I’ve come across who I might’ve met during that time. Could I― Would you have time for coffee? Or something?” 

Martha was already reaching for her pocket. “I’ll do you one better― Take a half day and come by my lab.” She pulled out her official UNIT contact cards, flipping one over and scribbling her cell number onto the back. “Call me when you get to the building. They should let you in on sight, but just in case there’s a new guard or something.” She held the card out and Donna took it, immediately scanning it. 

“ _You’re_ a doctor?” Blue eyes flicked up to her, wider than usual. “How old are you?” 

“I got fast-tracked,” Martha said. “But I’ve had all the proper training! More than, if you count― Well. Never mind that, for now. Can you give me an hour to book the CT and MRI?”

Donna blinked at her. “I’ve already had those. The doctors said everything seemed normal.” 

Martha waved that off. “Well, we’ll start with the CT and MRI just for a baseline. Then we can use a few machines the average neurologist wouldn’t have access to.” She paused, considering the kinds of circumstances that might lead to the Doctor’s companion being lost without her memories. “Actually, maybe we should just take the afternoon. How long do you have until you can take off?” 

Donna blinked at her again, more rapidly. “I just have to― Ninety minutes. I think I could be done. Call off with a headache for the rest.” 

“ _Do_ you have a headache?” Martha asked, itching for her penlight. 

“…Not right now,” Donna said slowly. She hesitated and then added, “Will this throw off _your_ afternoon? I could― I don’t mean to― I don’t even know you!” 

“ _I_ know _you,_ ” Martha reminded her. “What’s a little neurological workup between friends?” She nodded at the card. “Head over as soon as you're done. I’ll clear my schedule.”

“Right,” Donna said, and the lack of argument made Martha hurry that much more.

* * *

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Martha admitted, swinging the screen around to show. 

Donna peered at the renderings. “How do you mean? And what sort of scan is this?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Martha said, subtly moving a file over the alien writing at the base. “The important bits are these… well… they’re not lesions.” She pointed out the scattered spots on the scan. “And they’re too precise to be caused by blunt force trauma.” 

Donna glanced up through her fringe. “Think I’d have noticed a bump big enough to wipe out three years of memory, yeah.” 

“Is it really all gone?” Martha asked. “Like you went to sleep in 2005 and woke up in 2009?”

Donna frowned pensively. “No, it’s… It’s more like a dream I can’t quite remember. And it has that quality dreams have where you just sort of end up places and it makes sense somehow, but if you try to work back how you got there, it’s all just… fuzzy…” She trailed off, looking a bit fuzzy herself. It reminded Martha of the way John Smith used to stare off into space while describing his journal entries. 

“Right.” Martha reached for her phone. “Can you take tomorrow off? Come with me to Cardiff?”

Donna startled out of her sad introspection. “Cardiff? What??” 

“We’ve run out of scans here, but I’m sure Torchwood has some squirreled away for a rainy day,” Martha said, dialing Jack. “Hang on just a tic―“ 

Jack’s cheery tone came through almost immediately. “Is that a nightingale I hear singing in my pocket?” 

“Hi, Jack.” Martha couldn’t keep from smiling just a little. “Any chance you have some time tomorrow to let me go through whatever neural scanners you have piling up in the basement?” 

“Are you calling as Martha Jones, UNIT’s top medical officer or Martha Jones who goes around snogging sexy immortals just because ‘everyone else had a go?’” 

Martha pretended not to notice Donna’s brows cocking violently. “How about Martha Jones who will tell you about that time a certain pinstriped someone got himself engaged and only figured it out once he was in the ceremonial bath? Three words: half-drowned cat.”

Jack laughed delightedly. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Martha Jones! I’ll send Ianto down to sort through the old pizza boxes and see what we can dig up. Looking for anything in particular?” 

“Brain scans.” Martha gave Donna an ‘ok’ sign, which she returned, looking baffled but far too curious to turn it down. “Anything you have that could detect memory tampering.” 

“Chemical or physical?” Jack asked gamely.

“Not sure,” Martha answered. “Anything you can think of, really.”

“Is the subject alive?”

Donna’s brows slammed down, but Martha answered, “Yes, and it’s very important that she stays that way. It’s Donna Noble.” 

“Something’s wrong with Donna Noble’s head and you’re coming to _me??_ ” Jack jumped on that immediately. “What happened to the Doctor? Is he―?”

“He doesn’t seem to be here,” Martha said, watching Donna go a bit fuzzy again. “I think it’s― I don’t know what to think. But that’s why I’m―“

“Do you want to come now?” Jack asked, much more focused. “There are trains every half hour.”

Martha looked up at Donna. “Think your mum would let you pack an overnight bag without too many questions?” 

Donna looked thoroughly bewildered. “Do you know my _mum?!_ ”

“Oh, is she there?” Jack raised his voice amicably. “Donna Noble, what’s the soonest I can expect you? We’ll roll out the Torchwood red carpet!” Something muffled came from just out of audio range, but sounded sarcastic. “No, of course I don’t mean _that_ one. Why do we still have that one?”

“We’ll come as soon as we can,” Martha said, trying to get back on track. “I’ll text you from the train.” 

“Molto bene!” Jack crowed and hung up.

Martha rolled her eyes, smiling in spite of herself, but Donna didn’t seem to register any of that, suddenly looking like a sleepwalker. “…Donna?” 

“Yeah?” Donna asked, sounding vague and far away. 

“You all right? We can go in the morning if you’re really tired.” 

Donna blinked at her, slowly, like someone not quite awake. “Go where?” 

Martha frowned. “To Cardiff… Remember? We were just talking about it.” 

“Cardiff?” Donna repeated vaguely. “…That man on the phone. What did he say? Just at the… end…?” She trailed off again and the golden rings around her pupils seemed to get brighter for just a moment.

“Donna?” Martha put one hand on her shoulder, tilting her chin with the other. “Are you all right?” 

The golden rings pulsed, contracting, and Donna blinked, going still. “…Were we speaking just now?” she asked in a much more normal (suspicious) tone. 

“Tell me the last thing you remember,” Martha suggested. 

“You were showing me the scan.” Donna glanced over at the display that had long since gone into screensaver mode. “…I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”

“I think we should go to Cardiff today,” Martha said carefully, watching for any adverse reaction.

Donna looked over. “Why Cardiff?” 

“…I don’t think I can explain,” Martha said, trying to get a good look at her irises. They seemed to be the same deep blue as before, with the rings back to a more coppery undertone. 

Donna’s brow furrowed, but she straightened, pulling her chin up and out of Martha’s grip. “Suppose that’s not anywhere near the strangest thing either of us has asked so far.” She glanced at the phone. “Assume I’ll need an overnight bag. Should I meet you in two hours?”

Martha stared at her. “Just like that?”

Donna nodded sharply. “It’d be an awfully long con for you to drag me out to Cardiff to do me in when I’m already alone in a lab with you right now, right?” 

Martha laughed, startled. “You really are something, do you know that?” 

“Yeah, I’m a real wonder.” Donna rolled her eyes, standing up. “Two hours, yeah? Paddington?”

“Yeah,” Martha said, getting up as well. “Race you there.” 

Donna gave her a funny little smile, but only said, “Thanks.” 

“You’d do the same for me,” Martha smiled back. 

* * *

Donna was all too eager to meet Jack once she got a look at him, but it was Ianto that she couldn’t seem to let go of. At first it looked like Donna was holding Ianto’s hand, which was a bit odd, but when Martha looked again, she realized Donna was actually holding his sleeve and didn’t seem to register him speaking to her. 

“Everything all right?” Jack asked.

Donna traced three pinstripes up Ianto’s forearm. “This suit is so familiar…”

Jack gently slid his hand under hers, coaxing her off, and she blinked up at him. The golden rings around her irises contracted as she let go.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Was I saying something?” 

“Ianto, I think you should go get changed,” Jack said. 

“Right away, sir.” Ianto disappeared out the back. 

Donna blinked after him. “Did I say something rude? His suit seemed… fine…” She started to get a bit hazy again. “…Actually, I can’t quite remember what it looked like… That’s… odd…”

Jack gave Martha a worried glance, but put an arm around Donna’s shoulders, guiding her deeper into the hub. “Don’t worry about that. Let’s get you checked out!” 

Donna didn’t seem to mind the mild man-handling, but she did tilt her head up to squint at him. “You’re awfully nice to a stranger.” 

Jack gave her a crooked smile. “You might not know me, but I know who you are. You’re owed a debt. And Torchwood pays its debts.” 

“Right…” Donna didn’t seem anything like convinced, but she did allow him to lead her down the hall. And when Ianto returned wearing a suede jacket she just said, “That’s a nice color,” and left him to it. 

* * *

It only took a few hours for them to work their way through everything they even half suspected of being a brain scan. 

Ianto came back by with tea and Jack took the opportunity to pull Martha aside.

“Anything?” she asked.

Jack glanced over her shoulder and back again. “Martha, I think someone did this to her.” 

“Well, yeah,” Martha said. “I didn’t actually think she’d done it to herself―“

“No,” Jack cut her off, voice tight. “It looks like she’s had telepathic interference. From an advanced telepathic species.”

Martha stared at him. “…Like…?” 

Jack looked back grimly. “Time Lords are the most advanced telepathic species I’ve come across.”

“You think the Doctor―?!” Martha couldn’t even finish the sentence, darting a glance over her shoulder where Donna was cheerily poking through the biscuit selection with Ianto. 

“You and I know better than anyone, he might not be the only one left.” He grimaced and continued, “But… yeah. Most likely the Doctor.” 

“But…” Martha turned that over in her mind, willing another explanation to reveal itself. “Why would he…?” 

Jack spread his hands wide. “I don’t know.”

“I tried calling him,” Martha admitted. “His phone was off.” 

Jack looked surprised. “ _That’s_ how UNIT got a direct line?” 

Martha looked at him. “Don’t you have your own?” 

“No,” Jack said immediately. “He’d never― No.” 

“…Well,” Martha said finally. “I guess it’s up to us then.”

Jack smiled, lopsided. “When isn’t it?” He took her hand in his, pulling her back toward the others. 

* * *

“Thanks for trying,” Donna said, when they eventually called it and made their way back to London. 

Something about the resigned way she said it plucked at Martha’s conscience. “Just because we couldn’t work it out in a couple of days doesn’t mean we should give up, right?” She nudged Donna’s paper cup of tea with her own. “We could… meet up for tea? Brainstorm options?” 

Donna gave her a startled, painfully hopeful look. “You’d―? Really?”

Martha smiled. “Of course!” She thought to check, “You saved my number, right?” 

“Course I did.”

“So then… Tea? Tomorrow?” 

Donna nodded. “It’s a date. Well, not a date. Oh, you know what I mean!” She frowned and went a bit fuzzy for some reason, and then shook herself out of it. “…What were we talking about?” 

“Tea tomorrow?” Martha offered, eying her. 

“Oh,” Donna said and then blinked. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Martha said slowly. “Do you not remember?” 

“No, of course I do,” Donna said, giving herself a little shake. “Tea. Tomorrow. I remember!” 

“Are you okay to get home?” Martha asked.

Donna scoffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”


	3. No Help, As Usual

Two and a half weeks after Martha had given up on trying to get in contact with the Doctor, the TARDIS appeared in her living room at 7:16 in the morning. 

The Doctor slammed out like an over-caffeinated cartoon tiger. “Martha Jones! Happy Summer Solstice!” 

“It’s July,” Martha corrected, but returned his enthusiastic hug all the same. “I’ve been looking all over for you! You turned off my phone!” 

“Did I?” he asked, already snooping around. “Must’ve run out of battery. You humans and your primitive power sources.” 

Martha shook that off. “Never mind that― Are you all right?” 

The Doctor turned around, blinking owlishly. “I’m always all right.” 

“No, not ‘always all right’ all right, I mean actually all right.”

He frowned at her. “Are _you_ all right? That wasn’t one of your more coherent questions.” 

“Why are you here?” she asked instead. 

He ruffled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Do I need a _reason?_ I didn’t think we parted on _such_ terrible terms this last time.”

“You don’t need a reason, but you usually have one,” Martha pointed out. She even dared to ask, “Where’s Donna?” 

It looked like his whole body locked up, just for a moment, before he wrenched it back into motion, spinning away again. “Oh, you know how it is.” 

“Did something happen?” she pressed, ignoring his dismissive tone. 

“She’s fine,” he said curtly. “Just fine. Just... She’s back home now.” 

“On a visit?” Martha tried again.

The Doctor spun around again, coat tails whipping at her kitchen chairs and startling the cat out of a nap. “I thought you didn’t like me talking about other companions,” he said, all sharp cheer. “Came here to see _you_ , didn’t I?” 

Martha watched him paw around the biscuits on the counter and couldn’t quite keep from one last try. “I’m a proper doctor now, you know. If there’s something wrong, maybe I could help?” 

The Doctor flicked an unreadable glance up at her from where he was bending to inspect her cabinets. For just a moment, she thought he might actually treat her like a proper companion instead of a tolerable pet. But the moment passed and he straightened, plastering on a smile. “Course you could, Martha Jones. I only travel with the best. And you _are_ the best.” 

She tried to smile back at him, but wasn’t quite sure it worked. “So you’re… just here for a visit?” 

The Doctor beamed, bright and blinding. “Exactly!” He put a gentle hand at the small of her back, steering her toward the TARDIS. “Could even fit in a quick trip if you’d like!”

“I have to go to work,” she protested, but didn’t exactly fight him off.

“Oh, it’ll still be here when you get back. Blink of an eye, you know how it works.” He snapped his fingers and the doors popped open.

“When did you learn to do that?” Martha asked, and got bundled inside while she was distracted. 

“Oh, you know,” he said vaguely. “Here and there.” 

She started to object to that total non-answer, but got distracted by the sight of her cell sticking out of one of the nooks in the central console. “Hey! That’s my phone right there!” She marched over to it, picking up. It powered up immediately, fully charged. “You turned it off!” 

“Did I?” The Doctor swept around her, plucking the phone out of her hands and putting it back in one of his endless pockets. “How strange. Good thing I managed to find you without it!” He set to twisting dials and flipping switches. 

“Oi, I didn’t say I could come on a trip!” Martha objected, and then went a bit flustered when she realized she’d sounded like a certain ginger temp just then. 

The Doctor’s fluid motions stuttered, stumbling, but he resumed almost immediately. “Oh, but you don’t mind, do you?” He patted her head on his next pass. “Just a quick one? Just for old times’ sake?” 

“Oh, fine,” Martha mumbled, and he flashed another boyish grin before resuming the dance. 

“Molto bene!” 

* * *

One thwarted dictatorship later, the Doctor dropped her back off as casually as if he’d checked her out of the pound for a daytrip. But he was at least within an hour of when they’d left. 

Martha had to scramble a bit to change and get to work, but UNIT wasn’t exactly strict about hours.

She spent the morning turning over every aspect of the visit in her mind and by the time tea rolled around, she’d made a decision. 

Donna met her downstairs, looking bright and bold in the stark tones of UNIT’s main entrance. It didn’t help that most of the staff were sneaking unsubtle looks at her, though she seemed to think that was just part and parcel. 

They headed to the place across the street and Martha barely managed to wait until they’d ordered to dive right in. “What’s the furthest back you’ve ever forgotten something?” 

Donna shrugged, unfazed by the sudden interest. “I was supposed to get married in 2006, but the details are all fuzzy. I can’t even remember who it was supposed to be.” She laughed, sharp and discordant. “Imagine that. Not even being able to remember my fiancé. No wonder it didn’t work out.” 

“I’m sorry,” Martha said automatically. “…But I meant now. When you lose time sometimes. What’s the most you’ve lost? A day? A week?”

“Usually just minutes, I think,” Donna said, eyes turning inward. “And… it’s usually right after. I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten something from the week before, say.” 

“That’s good,” Martha said, jotting it down. “It doesn’t seem to affect new long term memories formed after whatever happened. Only short term.” 

“Isn’t short term memory under a minute?” Donna asked. “I think I’ve lost more than a minute.”

“Good point,” Martha said, making herself a note. “Maybe I should get a proper neurologist.”

“No!” Martha jumped at the volume and Donna looked a bit startled herself, but continued, “No, please. I― I’d rather work with you. If it’s not too much trouble. …Is it too much trouble? You can say if it’s―“

“Don’t worry about it,” Martha cut that off. “I didn’t mean _instead of_ me. I meant someone I could talk to, like a consult.” She scribbled another note to that effect and paused, tapping her stylus. “…I think I can help keep track of what time you’re losing. If you’d trust me.” 

“I trust you,” Donna said immediately and then laughed. “Can’t really explain it, but I do.” 

Martha smiled, a bit charmed. “Right. I’m going to phrase the next bit very carefully, because I don’t want to trigger anything. Don’t try to remember anything else― just focus entirely on this conversation. Right now.”

“Okay,” Donna said skeptically, but shifted around to face her more purposefully. 

“I think you should come to work at UNIT. It’ll make it easier for me to come around with you and monitor for any changes or gaps.”

“Like a lab rat under observation,” Donna said flatly.

“No,” Martha corrected. “Like a friend who trusts her other friend to keep track of things she’s having trouble holding on to.” 

“…It’s very hard _not_ to try to remember what I did to earn this kind of friend,” Donna admitted. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Martha said. “The important thing is I’m here now. And I want to help. Will you let me help?” 

Donna blinked and for a moment Martha worried she was going a bit unfocused, but she sniffled discreetly, going a bit misty instead. “All right.”

“All right?” Martha confirmed. 

“Yeah,” Donna swallowed and smiled. “If you’re going to get all pushy about it.” 

Martha smiled and said, “Excellent!” so she wouldn’t accidentally say ‘Molto bene!’ 


	4. Friends Like These

It was surprisingly easy to befriend Donna. Even mind-wiped and working with a minefield of unknown triggers, she was aggressively optimistic and was always up for a laugh. She thought it was absolutely hilarious that Martha had adopted the stray cat she’d mistaken for a Zygon. And she nearly lost her mind when she found out she’d named the thing Ziggy. 

UNIT set her up working the public-facing, less military jobs and she took to it like a duck to water. If she thought it was odd that no one ever questioned her judgement and let her have basically free reign of all the organizational systems, she never mentioned it. She just dove in, getting things in line like a grandmaster in her element. 

“You really are clever,” Martha told her for the seventieth time, as she explained the new triage system she’d set up. 

“I did a stint with an emergency response organization. Throw in a little weighting I picked up from a help center and voila― should run much smoother now.” Donna tapped the files on her desk, visibly pleased. “Meryl offered me a promotion for it. Full time admin.” 

“You weren’t already full time?” Martha asked. “You should have been―“

“I wanted to earn it,” Donna said. “You’ve already done more than you should have to. Hiring in your loony friend who can’t even remember―“ 

“Donna,” Martha interrupted. “I’ve told you. You earned this on your own. Everyone here knows it, even if you can’t remember.” 

“Well,” Donna huffed. “Starting Monday I’ll have the title you seem to think I should already have.” 

Martha detected a defensive note in that and sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean―“ She pulled herself together. “We should celebrate! Up for a drink? Any coworkers you want to invite?”

Donna waved that off. “Just you and me is fine. No need to make a fuss.” 

Martha could tell she hadn’t quite corrected course yet. “It’s great, Donna. Really.” She couldn’t quite keep from adding, “We all owe you so much more than this.” 

Donna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll start with a drink.” 

* * *

Donna’s favorite bar was also, incidentally, her friends’ favorite bar, which meant that Martha got to hang out with Nerys for the night. 

She wondered, once again, whether she should look into getting more female friends. Still, it seemed to be going well. Right up until Donna excused herself to go to the loo. 

Nerys turned to Martha immediately. “So Donna’s going in with birds now, eh?” 

Martha nearly did a cartoon spit-take. “Excuse me?” 

“Nerys!” Veena chided. “That’s no way to―“ She turned to Martha. “It’s great. Really. Lovely to meet you!” 

“How old are you?” Nerys asked, eying her like a territorial alleycat. “Has she taken up cradle-robbing as well?”

“Never mind Nerys,” Veena said. “She was always jealous of Donna’s success with younger men. Makes sense it’d carry over, y’know.” 

“I’m not jealous!” Nerys insisted. “I’m just asking a question.” To Martha, she added, “She’s coming up on forty, you know.” 

Martha would have guessed mid-thirties, on the high side, but she wasn’t about to let Nerys know that. “I’ve been told I’ve got an old soul, but Donna doesn’t seem to mind.” 

Veena giggled and Nerys glared, but Donna returned and the topic was dropped. 

It wasn’t until later that Martha realized she probably should have mentioned her fiancé, but Donna was enjoying herself, and she didn’t want to distract so she just quietly took off her ring under the table and carried on. 

* * *

Donna invited herself over to stay in that odd way she had of just assuming that was what they were doing anyway. She was stretched out on Martha’s sofa in a borrowed nightshirt before Martha could really work out how that had happened. 

“That was fun!” Donna declared, kicking her feet up. “Did you have fun?” 

“Yeah, I did,” Martha said, and was a little surprised that it wasn’t actually a lie. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe she was getting a bit too focused on all work and no play lately. 

“Want to watch a movie?” Donna offered.

“Whose flat _is_ this?” Martha teased, but let herself be pulled down onto the sofa and passed over the remote. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Donna asked, already distractedly flipping through options. She’d scrubbed off her minimal makeup and the dim lighting made her look… not younger, but brighter, perhaps. Lively. Like a hothouse flower that had somehow managed to grow in the middle of Martha’s arid living room. 

“Don’t pick anything with subtitles,” Martha said. “I might want to rest my eyes.” 

Donna scoffed. “I’ll cross telenovelas and Russian romance off the list.” 

* * *

Martha woke up far too warm, but it felt like she was wedged under an amazingly soft pillow. Until the pillow moved, jabbing her with a pointy elbow. 

“Ow,” she grumbled. Or tried to. It was a bit muffled by the actual pillow she was half buried in. 

There was a snuffly sound just behind her head and an arm wound around under her chest, squeezing her like a stuffed bear. A tangle of red hair fell into her face and the pieces came together. “Donna,” she mumbled. “Your elbow.” 

Donna made a vaguely inquisitive sound, shifting her grip over Martha’s ribs, stroking lightly. She mumbled something, but it took a moment for Martha to register it. “Sorry, Spaceman.” 

Martha jerked upright, violently displacing Ziggy from the other end. “Donna?” 

“Mm?” Donna whined, voice cracking sleepily. “What time is it?” 

“Do you know who I am?” Martha asked. 

Donna cracked one eye open and then the other. They were solidly blue, if a bit unfocused. “Martha, what are you on about first thing in the morning?” 

“Um.” Martha blinked at her. “Nothing.” She straightened up and winced as her back protested. “Should’ve just shared the bed.” 

Donna reached up, kneading lightly at her lower back. “Next time.” 

It took Martha a minute to catch that, busy trying to get Donna’s hand to where it’d do the most good. By the time she realized, far too much time had passed to bother mentioning it. “That’s really nice,” she commented instead.

Donna rolled her hand over to work her knuckles in and Martha nearly purred. “Least I can do,” she mumbled, rubbing at one eye with her free hand. “Is there tea?” she asked hopefully. 

“No, I’m the only person in England who doesn’t keep tea in the house.”

“Oi, don’t start!” Donna ground her knuckles in a strange little figure eight and then pushed herself upright, yawning. “You want first crack at the loo? I can start in on breakfast.” 

Martha, who hadn’t actually lived with anyone outside of student housing, was pleasantly surprised by the offer. “You don’t mind?” 

“’S your flat,” Donna yawned, stretched, and rolled to her feet. 

* * *

Martha’s birthday came around and Donna somehow got wind of it and somehow that meant that she got dragged out to Cardiff for a whole overnight she didn’t remember agreeing to. 

“What are you doing with this doctor who doesn’t even bother to come back for your birthday?” Donna asked, leaning just a bit too heavily on the tabletop. “Remind me, how good looking can he even be?” 

Taking the hint, Martha pulled up a photo on her phone and passed it over. “He’s a bit of all right.” 

Donna whistled like a cartoon wolf. “Are these real?” She swiped over to the next screen without asking, and then did it again a few more times before Martha managed to grab the phone back. “Can you send me some of those? Or better yet― what’s your stance on threesomes?” 

“She says no.” Jack slid back into the booth with another round. “I’ve already asked.”

“Is it really a threesome if you’d want Ianto to come along?” Martha mused and then was glad she couldn't blush when she realized she’d said that out loud. 

Jack grinned at her and called loudly across the pub. “Ianto, Martha says you’re the only thing standing between me and a threesome with her and Tom.” 

“Oh, then by all means, go with my blessing,” the Welshman called back, unconcerned. “Good luck talking Tom into that thing you like.” 

“Which thing I like?” Jack laughed. “You’ll have to be more specific!” 

“Jack, what did the barkeep say about shouting that sort of thing across the pub?” Gwen shouted across the pub.

“I can’t remember,” Jack shouted back. 

“He said to knock it off or find somewhere else to haunt, ya daft American!” the barkeep shouted louder than both of them. 

“What?” Jack shouted back, even louder. “I didn’t quite catch that! Did you say, ‘Guess loudly and in graphic detail?’ Sure, I could give it a go…”

Ianto materialized out of the crowd with a tray of drinks. “No need for that,” he said, back to his usual low tone. 

“Stop getting us kicked out of bars,” Gwen chided, wedging in. “This isn’t New York! We’ll run out eventually!” 

“How many have you been kicked out of?” Donna asked. 

“Hardly any,” Jack said at the same time as Gwen said, “Too many to count,” and Ianto said, “Seven.” 

Jack turned to Ianto. “Only seven? I really _am_ gettin’ old.” 

“I’m sure you’re just tired.” Ianto patted his hand, taking an unconcerned sip. 

Donna snickered, turning back to Martha. “Tom said no to all that? Guess we can take ‘he’s gay’ off the list of possible issues.” 

“Aw, are there issues?” Gwen asked, reaching across to clasp Martha’s hand. “Want to talk about it, love?” 

“No!” Martha said and then clarified, “No, there are no issues, so no, I don’t need to talk about it, I mean.”

Gwen turned to Donna who said, “Bloke can’t even make it back for her birthday. Seems to me that’s an issue no matter how good looking he is.”

“Is he on some important assignment?” Gwen asked, already wincing. 

“He’s an MSF doctor,” Martha explained. “All his assignments are important.”

“More important than his fiancée?” Donna mused. 

“Yes,” Martha said curtly, willing her to focus her attention somewhere else. 

“Doesn’t seem right,” Donna muttered, but subsided. “Suppose it’s _your_ birthday though…” She pointed at Jack. “Does this place allow body shots and would you let Martha take a shot off those lovely abs of yours?” 

“Yes and yes,” Jack said, tugging his braces off his shoulders. “Ianto, could you…?”

Ianto was already standing. “Tequila shots are customary, I believe?” 

“Donna’s joking!” Martha said.

“Oi, I am _not!_ ” 

“Well, you _should_ be!” 

“Tequila would be great,” Donna said. “But don’t forget the salt and lime!” 

Ianto placed a hand over his heart. “What sort of animal do you take me for?” 


	5. Work/Life

Donna was very… Martha wasn’t sure what the word was. “Handsy” seemed too aggressive, and “touchy feely” seemed too soft… “Tactile,” maybe? She was always ready with a casual, reassuring touch that somehow never seemed intrusive. She’d lean over to look at something and place a hand on Martha’s shoulder. She’d tap the back of Martha’s hand to get her attention, nodding at whatever she wanted her to notice. She’d bump her hip into Martha’s while they were walking, casual as you please. 

Martha was used to strict workplace etiquette (no unnecessary contact) and she worried Donna would get complaints, but the clever ginger always pulled away just short of touching anyone else. Her hand hovered over a scientist’s shoulder while she waited for her to leave the elevator. She brushed the air by a lab tech’s head while telling him she liked his new beard. It was a fascinating little dance, giving the impression of warmth without the actual touch. 

Embarrassingly, Martha was always reaching for Donna’s hand without thinking about it. After being conditioned by a touch-starved Time Lord for so long, it was a hard habit to break, but Donna never seemed to mind. After the first few goes, Donna started returning the favor, offering her hand first and then, as she grew more comfortable, just tugging Martha along. That progressed to a hand at the small of her back or an arm looped through hers when walking in crowds.

It was nice to be so casually drawn in. And it was a bit refreshing to have such open affection offered without hesitation. One out of three times that Martha reached for the Doctor he’d just edge away like a wary stray, but Donna never did. She’d pull Martha right in, and it was a bit pathetic how much Martha appreciated the lack of flinching. 

* * *

One weekend when Donna was dragged out of town for some family obligation, Martha took the opportunity to go to the salon and take a break from her flat iron by going for braids instead. Come Monday, she’d nearly forgotten about them until Donna nearly dropped her coffee. “You changed your hair!” 

“Yeah,” Martha said, tugging one of the braids forward. “Got sick of the straightener. What do you think?” 

Donna was already half in her space, and her hands came up, but stopped short of actually touching. “It’s gorgeous!” She looked her over carefully and Martha fought down a flutter at the attention. “How long did it take?” Her right hand traced the air next to the strands tucked behind Martha’s ear. 

“Oh, forever, but that’s always the way of it.” Martha eyed the hovering hand curiously and Donna blushed, pulling it back. 

“Oh, sorry,” Donna mumbled. “I wasn’t going to.” 

Martha frowned at her. “What?”

Donna looked inexplicably flustered. “I know you’re not supposed to touch.” 

“What?” Martha asked again, and then realized. “Oh! No, it’s fine. You can. If you want.” 

Donna tucked her hands under her own arms. “No, I know it’s rude! Sorry, I didn’t―“

Martha cut her off, laughing at the idea of Donna backing down from something because it was rude, of all things. “It’s fine, Donna! Really!” She pulled the strands from behind her ear, tilting forward. “I don’t mind!” 

“Really?” Donna eyed her, clearly tempted. 

Martha shrugged. “Not exactly a stranger on the Tube are you? Go on, if you’d like.” 

Donna hesitated only another moment, catching three braids between two fingers. She gave the gentlest little stroke and her eyes flickered like Mediterranean seas. “It suits you!” 

Martha fought down a strange little butterfly in her stomach. “Just felt like a change, you know?” 

Donna tucked the braids back behind her ear, grazing the shell. “You look lovely.” She dropped her hand to Martha’s shoulder, gave it a pat, and then pulled back, reclaiming the coffee she’d stacked on the desk. “Fancy a cuppa?” 

“Yes, please!” Martha immediately took a sip, pleased to find it just the way she liked it, as usual. “I think you’ve been conditioning me! I’m going to start getting a headache if I don’t get my dose on time.” 

“Well, don’t pick fights with your supplier and it’s probably fine,” Donna said, sipping her own with a smile. Some of her hair fell forward when she bent down and Martha tucked it back without really thinking about it. 

“Do _you_ ever get tired of the straightener?” she asked, feeling the smooth strands under her fingertips. 

Donna made an odd little huffy sort of laugh, glancing at her hand and then away again. “Sometimes,” she admitted.

“You could wear it curly sometimes,” Martha suggested, eyeing the familiar sharp cheekbones and jaw. “I’m sure it suits you.” 

Donna showed up the next day with lovely ringlets and Martha playfully bragged that she was right about everything. 

“A regular soothsayer,” Donna agreed, blushing. “Next you’ll be consuming the vapors.” For some reason, that made Donna lose the thread, going a bit vague for a moment. 

“Donna?” Martha prodded, stroking one of the ringlets by her ear. 

Donna blinked, and startled a bit. “…What were we talking about?” Her eyes slanted over toward Martha’s wrist, still up by her face. 

“Um,” Martha said, pulling back. “Just that your hair looks lovely like this.” 

Donna rolled her eyes, but tucked her hair back, casually pressing Martha’s hand closer as she did so. 

* * *

At some point, Donna had decided that she should get a mid-morning break and no one at UNIT was brave enough to point out that that wasn’t actually a thing. She’d started adding a mid-afternoon one as well, breaking her day into 2-3 hour increments, but she still got more done than three other people would so her supervisor seemed to just leave it alone. Martha wasn’t necessarily included in that unofficial deal, but she wasn’t any braver about telling Donna not to do what she liked and it certainly wasn’t the worst way to break up her day. 

Donna appeared like clockwork while Martha was trying to get her centrifuge recalibrated. “I’ll be just a minute,” Martha said absently, eyeing the dials. 

Donna hummed acknowledgement and started nosing around the lab. Some beakers clinked― the reaction dyes probably catching her eye again. 

Martha realized she was paying too much attention and made herself refocus on the fussy centrifuge. She suspected the issue was the plasmavore sample she’d been trying to analyze. It always seemed to find its way out of the receptacle and into the mechanisms. 

Donna carried on poking around behind her, getting close enough for Martha to smell her perfume, light and flowery.

“You know,” Donna said, almost to herself, “I think you might be my best mate.” 

Martha huffed an amused breath in spite of herself. “I really have to finish recalibrating this before my appointments this afternoon. I could do lunch, if you wanted, but I have to come back this time. The admin team is already put out enough after that early afternoon on Tuesday.” 

Donna scoffed. “Oh, you’re young. You’re supposed to blow off work for silly things like concerts. And leaving at 4PM is hardly ‘an early afternoon!’” 

“I had appointments!” Martha pointed out. Again. 

“You’d been going on about that band forever! Is it my fault they only have pop-up performances? I had to join Twitter to keep track of it! Twitter!”

Martha couldn’t help but laugh at her indignant tone. “Like you don’t love it. I can see those notifications on your phone, you know!” 

“Well. More subtle than having ‘Heat’ out at work, isn’t it?”

Before Donna could work her way up to defensive, Martha reached back for her hand, tugging her closer. “Think you could help with this?” 

Donna’s fingers twitched in her grip, but she leaned in without comment. “What did you do to it this time?”

“I just spun a sample it didn’t like! It’s a centrifuge! I’m supposed to be able to put things in it!” Martha objected. 

She could just _feel_ Donna’s brow go up. “You put alien blood in there again, didn’t you?” 

“Well, I can’t very well do a workup on human blood to figure out what’s wrong with my plasmavore!” Martha pointed out. 

Donna just laughed and nudged her way in, poking around. “Can’t they get you a proper lab tech?” 

“It takes forever to hire someone,” Martha hedged, fully aware of the pile of CV’s that Donna would have noticed on her desk. 

“You’re so picky,” Donna commented, flicking a nail lightly against the leveler. 

“I have discerning tastes,” Martha said, watching the fascinating little lines of concentration on Donna’s face. 

Donna just scoffed. “Is that why you’re stuck with an amnesiac for a best mate?” Something about the casual way she said it made Martha go all warm and fluttery. 


	6. Not A Hen Night

Martha broke it off with Tom over the phone, and it was all a bit anticlimactic. She didn’t even remember to mention it until Donna brought it up.

“What happened to your ring?” 

“Hm?” Martha looked up from her report and then down at her own hand where Donna was staring. “Oh, I, uh, broke it off.”

“You _what?!_ ”

She straightened up defensively. “I broke it off with Tom. I haven’t seen him in months― you were right.” 

“And you didn’t say?!” Donna shoved her way onto the desk, pushing the monitors off to the side. “Should we be celebrating? Or― no, you said _you_ broke it off. That’s a celebration, right? Drinks, maybe?” 

“Donna, it’s 2PM,” Martha laughed, but somehow she was already being pulled out of her chair. 

“Not everyday your best mate calls off a wedding!” Donna insisted. “Want me to call Jack?”

“Are we still going to be drinking in three hours when he’d get here?” Martha asked. “It’s Wednesday!” 

“Oh, right.” Donna changed course toward the area she called the ‘admin pen,’ and flagged down a passing aide. “Martha and I are going to take a personal day tomorrow. Who do we need to tell?” 

The man glanced down at where Martha’s hand was casually gripped in Donna’s and fumbled around for a tablet. “I can make a note of it. You’re Donna Noble, right?” 

“It’s the hair, isn’t it?” Donna asked, having grown used to everyone around UNIT being magically able to identify her. “But yes, Donna Noble and Martha Jones. Is that all we need to do then?” 

“It doesn’t look like you’ve taken a personal day since you’ve been hired,” the aide said. “It shouldn’t be a problem.” He looked back up, pausing just a moment longer on their hands again. “Enjoy your day off!” 

“Thanks!” Donna beamed and glanced down at his badge. “Really appreciate it, Jeremy.” Jeremy looked a bit flustered just to be called by name by the famous Donna Noble, but she didn’t notice, too busy pulling Martha back down the hall. “There now, all settled. I’ll call Jack. Should we get you a sash or something?” 

“It’s not a hen night!” Martha objected, still laughing a little. 

Donna was already on her phone. “Jack! How quickly could you get to London? And do you know of a good source of strippers on a Wednesday?” She paused, listening, and elbowed her way into the elevator. “Martha broke it off with Tom! We’re celebrating!”

There was an intrigued exclamation from the other side of the line, which Martha could hear because the entire elevator went absolutely silent, staring at them. 

“Er,” she said. “Donna…”

Donna wasn’t listening, switching Martha’s hand to the crook of her arm while she pulled out a notepad. “Well, could you call this Mischa while you’re on the way?” She pressed Martha’s arm absently against her chest and turned to her. “Do you have a preference on ethnicity?” Jack said something and she added, “Or body hair?”

“Donna, we’re on the elevator. At work,” Martha said out of the corner of her mouth. “Could we have this conversation later? Or never?” 

Donna huffed. “She won’t say because ‘we’re at work. In an elevator.’ Just pick a few that don’t look like Tom and we should be good. You’re on your way, right?” There was a sound like a door slamming over the line and she pulled the phone away from her ear just in time to see the ‘call ended’ notification. “Rude,” she said fondly, and then actually cheered when the doors opened to the lobby. “Off we go then!”

“Have a nice night,” one of the scientific officers said meekly. 

Donna flashed them a brilliant smile. “Thanks! You too!” She then dragged Martha the rest of the way out of the building. 

* * *

Donna’s enthusiasm was always infectious, but she was in peak form that afternoon. She had them post up at a little bistro with fruity drinks and immediately set to making the corner booth into their own little den of iniquity. The owner didn’t seem to mind, apparently feeling a bit bored on a Wednesday. Instead of shutting it down, he pulled out some Christmas lights and helped Donna set whatever ambience she thought ‘breaking off an engagement’ merited.

Martha couldn’t be all that bothered with Donna cheerily plying her with drinks and treats and great big hugs whenever she got close enough. 

Some amount of time later (definitely not the three hours required to legally travel from Cardiff to London), Jack burst in with Ianto, Gwen, and what looked to be three chippendales. 

He spotted her immediately, crowing, “Martha Jones! I can’t _believe_ you told Donna before me! When did you do it? How did you do it? Tell me everything!” The whole troupe crowded in with them, the chippendales looking equally curious.

“It’s not an engagement story!” Martha protested, laughing in spite of herself. “I just broke it off. I haven’t seen him for months! We didn’t even video chat― just spoke over the phone!” 

“Ah, well, there’s no point in keeping someone that pretty around if you’re not even going to look at him,” Jack commisserated, waving over the owner. “What’s your best drink for celebrating?”

“You did not like this Tom?” The blonde chippendale asked with an accent that hinted at Eastern European. 

“I liked him a lot,” Martha said awkwardly. “But that was another life.” 

The chippendale nodded sagely. “It is important to love in _this_ life.” 

“Well said!” Donna crowed.

“Mischa,” he added at her expectant look. 

“Well said, Mischa!” She turned to the other two, who introduced themselves as “Sai,” and “Zane.” 

“How do you all happen to know Jack?” Donna grinned.

“Work associates,” they all answered. 

“Is Torchwood branching out into fashion modeling?” Martha teased. 

“It’s important to keep a diverse portfolio,” Ianto said primly. 

“We were told there might be a need for dance partners,” James said, smiling winsomely. 

Donna grinned back and went up onto her knees in the booth, looking for the owner. “Bernie,” she called, “Can we get some music in here?” She turned to the elderly couple sitting on the far side. “You don’t mind, do you? Don’t know if you heard, but my friend here just ended an engagement with a man who couldn’t even be bothered to come back for her birthday!” 

The old woman laughed and the old man’s eyes crinkled. “That’s certainly something to celebrate,” he agreed. “By all means.” 

Martha put a hand over her face. “Donna, can we not tell _everyone?_ ”

“You’re the one who vetoed the sash,” Donna said, nodding at the remaining patrons, seated at the bar like they were watching an impromptu floor show. “Any objections from the gallery?”

A man in a worn down leather jacket tipped his glass in their direction. “Celebrate away!” 

“You heard the man!” Jack jumped up, pulling Martha with him. “I get the first dance!”

“What?” Martha was spun into an easy brace. “Why?” 

“I’m the oldest,” Jack said and dipped her. 

“That’s not a thing!” she laughed, but Ianto disappeared into the back and a moment later music started up and it was all even more of a blur after that.

* * *

Gwen eventually had to get her grumbling husband to trek out and haul the Cardiff crew back. He complained the whole way, but still stopped to congratulate Martha like she’d had an actual wedding instead of calling one off. The remaining bistro patrons congratulated her on the way out and she half expected them to throw rice. 

Donna helped Martha home like the blind leading the blind, but it was hard to mind her cheerful stumbling when it involved a warm arm slung around her middle and a soft hip nudging into her on every other step. 

“You’re a lightweight,” Donna teased, pulling her up her drive. 

“We started at 2PM!” Martha complained halfheartedly, not able to stop laughing long enough to do it properly. “Honestly, if this is how you are when I call off a wedding, what would you have been like if I’d actually had a hen do?” 

Donna went a bit stiff, but stumbled, probably explaining that. “You deserve someone who’ll be there for you!” she said. “Someone who appreciates you properly!” 

“It’s talk like that that makes your friends think we’re together!” Martha giggled. 

Donna stopped fiddling with her front door to whip her head around to look at her. “You what?!” 

“Verys and Neena both think we’re dating,” Martha said, still laughing a little. “I didn’t correct them.”

“Nerys and Veena think we’re dating?” Donna repeated. “And you didn’t tell them otherwise?” She hip-checked her way into the flat, dragging Martha along for the ride. 

Martha shrugged. “Nerys thought I was too young for you. She was really rude about it! Why are you friends with someone who talks about you like that?” 

“Oh, that’s just Nerys. I’ve said worse to her.” Donna waved her off. “More to the point― when was this?” 

“First time I met them.” 

“…And you just _never said?_ ” 

Martha shrugged again. “What’s it matter? Not like you’re trying to date either one of them, right?” Donna blinked down at her. “…What?”

“How drunk are you right now?” 

“I’m not drunk I’m just tipsy,” Martha said, but her voice went a little singsong on the ‘tipsy.’ 

“You know what you’re saying though, right?” Donna continued. “You could, I don’t know, name all the bones in the wrist?” 

“Scaphoid, lunate, triquetrum, pisiform, hamate, capitate, trapezoid, trapezium,” Martha recited easily. 

“Well, that would be a really great test if I knew the right answer,” Donna mumbled to herself. 

“It’s right,” Martha assured her. “I’m a doctor, you know.”

For a moment it looked like she might have triggered something, but instead of going a bit fuzzy, Donna’s attention spiked, focused entirely on her. “Hell with it,” she said, and bent down to press a soft, fruity kiss to Martha’s lips. 

Martha really wasn’t drunk, but she responded embarrassingly quickly, sneaking a hand into Donna’s hair where it was falling out of the pins she added for work. She cupped the back of her head, angling, and they slid into perfect alignment. Donna kissed just as boldly as she did anything else, but it wasn’t hard or overwhelming by any means. It was honest and open, like all of Donna’s little offers of affection. 

Martha didn’t realize she’d been holding back until just that moment and she suddenly found herself wondering what else might be on offer if she’d think to ask. She tugged Donna closer with both arms and pulled her briefly off-balance, making them both stumble a bit. 

Donna mumbled something like an apology that sounded, like all her apologies, just a bit accusatory, but she let herself be dragged into the flat and over toward the sofa. “Is this all right?” she asked, when Martha sat and pulled Donna half into her lap. 

“Oh, yes!” Martha said, and then cursed herself and corrected to, “All right with you?”

“Mhm,” Donna hummed, leaning in with her whole body. “You don’t― Do we need to talk? Or something?” She pulled back just far enough to ask, but not so far that Martha couldn’t feel her lips forming the ridiculous questions.

“What’s there to talk about?” Martha kissed her again, breathing in her lovely perfume. “Seems like we’re on the same page here.” 

“Mmm,” Donna hummed again, hitting the low note she usually reserved for a particularly stellar drink. “We can’t― We probably shouldn’t really _do_ … anything,” Donna mumbled between the slow press of lips. “Been drinking ’n all…”

“Mmhm,” Martha agreed. “Don’t want you accusing me of taking advantage tomorrow.” She pulled her closer with both arms, sinking back into the lumpy cushions. 

“Yeah, that’s―“ Donna gasped as her hands began to wander. “ _Not_ really the issue.” 

“Should still stop though,” Martha said. “You have a point.” 

“Mm.” Donna pressed in, warm and gentle, one hand kneading at the back of Martha’s neck while the other slipped down under her collar, tracing her clavicle. “Maybe not _right_ away though.” There was something in her tone that was fascinatingly familiar. It had that little mischievous edge she’d get when proposing they sneak away from work.

Martha went along with it as easily as ever. “Nah, what’s the rush? Personal day tomorrow.” 

“Remind me to remind you to drink water,” Donna said, starting a little rocking motion. “Don’t want you hungover tomorrow. We have _plans._ ” She tilted Martha’s head back into another slow kiss and it tasted like a promise of something Martha hadn’t dared to hope for. 


	7. Start of Something

The following Monday, Donna made her file paperwork with HR and Martha had to put up with unsolicited visitors ‘popping by to see how things were going’ for the rest of the week. 

* * *

A month or so later, Martha was having a lie in while Donna took a shower. She dragged herself up when the blowdrying started, and was just making it out to the living room when the TARDIS materialized by the potted plants. 

Ziggy took off like he’d caught fire and Martha slammed the bedroom door after the cat, twisting the knob in the way that always made it stick and set Donna off on a rant nine times out of ten. 

The TARDIS doors crashed open, cracking against her shelf, and the Doctor popped out. “Martha Jones! There you are!” He bounded over, pulling her into a bear hug. “How are you this fine August morning?” 

“It’s November,” Martha pointed out, edging away from the bedroom door, where the blow drying noises were growing fainter. “And I was just on my way out… Want to go for a walk?” 

The Doctor looked her up and down, and she prayed that he still didn’t have a solid grasp of ‘pajamas’ vs ‘outdoor clothing.’ He glanced at her bare legs and then spun away, ruffling his hair. “We could take the TARDIS,” he suggested. “Maybe fit in a quick trip if you were in the mood?” 

The blowdrying sounds had completely died down. She had four minutes. _Maybe_ eight, if Donna wanted to fuss with hairpins. 

“I can’t go on a trip right now,” Martha said. “I’ve got somewhere to be later.”

The Doctor turned an indignant frown on her. “Travels in time,” he reminded. 

“You thought it was August,” she pointed out, looking around for shoes she might have left in the living room. Her galoshes were in the hall closet. They might have to do. “We can go for a walk and catch up though!” She herded him toward the front door. 

“That’s a funny phrase, ‘catch up,’” the Doctor edged away like Ziggy trying to avoid his flea meds. “Not sure when you started using it. We could look it up in the TARDIS? Maybe pop by to meet the first person who said it?” 

“I really can’t,” Martha said, steering him unsubtly back toward the door. “But if you’d let me grab my shoes…” 

The Doctor’s head snapped up a second before the bedroom door rattled and mumbled curses started up on the other side. The Doctor gave her a startled look. “Is there someone―?”

“Maybe wait outside?” Martha tried.

The Doctor darted around her, heading back toward the bedroom. “Is that your Tom Milligan? I haven’t met him yet!” 

Martha scrambled after him, getting herself between him and the door. “Now’s really not a great time! Could you―?”

Donna clattered out of the bedroom with a curse. “You have _got_ to let me take a look at that door! It took me― Oh, hello!” She immediately spotted the Doctor in spite of his having gone so still he might not be breathing. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else was here.” She tugged her cardigan tighter with one hand and extended the other. “Donna.” 

The Doctor stared at her hand with huge eyes and Donna cast a look at Martha that could not have more clearly read, ‘Who is this nutter?’ 

“Er,” Martha said. “This is…” 

“John Smith,” the Doctor cut her off, snatching Donna’s hand and then snatching his right back. 

“Nice to meet you,” Donna said, already turning. Her gaze slid over him as casually as a stranger on the Tube, like she barely registered his presence. Unfortunately, Martha was perfectly positioned to catch the micro-expressions on his face. For just a moment between blinks, he looked like he’d had all the joy ripped out of him, straight through both hearts. 

His eyes twitched over to Martha and she could nearly hear the shutters slam closed. “So sorry, Martha Jones, I didn’t realize you had someone over.” His tone was stiff and oddly formal. He spun on his heels, but visibly realized he couldn’t just climb into a police box without drawing attention to it. “Er. I’ll just…” He headed for Martha’s closet.

“You didn’t take your coat off,” Martha said, making him jump and turn a startled look over his shoulder. She jerked her chin toward the front door. “No need to stop by the closet on your way out.” 

The Doctor was apparently startled enough to actually read a social cue for once. He immediately corrected course toward the door. “Quite right.” He fumbled the lock a bit, drawing Donna’s attention.

“Leaving already?” she asked, absently poking around the kettle. “I was going to…” She trailed off, getting that odd look that Martha hadn’t seen in weeks. “…What _was_ I doing…?” She frowned vaguely at her own hand and glanced over to Martha automatically. “Was I going to make tea?” 

“How should _I_ know what you’re about to do?” Martha tried for a laugh. 

Donna’s expression sharpened into more familiar indignation. “Oi! See if I help you find your ID badge the next time you put it down somewhere and wander off!” She rolled her eyes, but ducked over for a quick kiss. 

The Doctor sucked in a breath so loudly it startled all three of them. 

“Oh!” Donna jumped back, pressing her hand to her own mouth. “Sorry― I forgot you were still here! Strangest thing…” She went a bit hazy again and then blinked back over to Martha. “Do I seem all right to you?” 

“It’s fine. You’re fine,” Martha reassured her. She nudged two mugs over. “Could you make me a cuppa while you’re at it?” 

Donna looked a little too long at the mugs, but pulled them over by the handles. “Don’t even get a ‘please’ now?” 

“Pretty please,” Martha said, glancing back toward the door. 

The Doctor was gone. 

“Hope I didn’t scare your friend off,” Donna said absently. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Martha said.

“Tell me you didn’t have an ex in the flat while I was in the shower,” Donna said, starting to sound more focused. “That’s just rude.” 

“I didn’t know he was coming,” Martha said, glancing at the TARDIS in her living room and willing the perception filter to hold. 

Donna whirled around. “Hang on, you really dated that beanpole?”

“No, no, no!” Martha put her hands up. “No! Not at all!” 

Tempted by new information, Donna’s haze was quickly giving way to shrewd deduction. “But something like it…? Unrequited maybe? Him or you?” She eyed Martha’s cheekbones. “Aw, it was you, wasn’t it?” She grinned. “Go on, tell me. I won’t be jealous.”

“Liar,” Martha said. It came out more fond than accusatory. 

“Off the one look, I’d have guessed he was a bit light in the loafers for you,” Donna carried on, unconcerned. “Was that why it didn’t work? Too many curves on you?” She added a playful up-down. 

“You’re one to talk!” Martha laughed and tossed a couple of sugar packets at her. “And no, I’m pretty sure he likes women a little _too_ much, if anything.” 

“Really?” Donna turned a considering look toward the door. “Let’s get him back up here. Now I have questions!” Before Martha could even process that, she was making her way over to the bay windows, pulling one up and shoving her head out. “Oi, beanpole! Get back up here and settle a bet for us!” Martha was fairly sure she was going to have a cardiac incident, but Donna was already pulling her head back in, laughing. “That skinny thing sure can run.” 

* * *

Martha tried to work out a viable reason why Donna should go and she should stay in the flat, but it was practically impossible to convince Donna to leave her behind at the best of times and if she was honest, she wasn’t exactly giving it her best effort. 

So they headed out for the day and by the time they got back the TARDIS was gone with no sign she’d ever been there at all aside from Ziggy sniffing suspiciously in the corner. 


	8. Inconveniences

When they had issues, they always seemed like strange issues. Donna was brash and impulsive and seemed to have an outright compulsion to say things she felt needed to be said, regardless of the timing or appropriateness. She argued with everyone, including Martha, over things that just didn’t seem like they could possibly be that important. 

When Martha pointed out that seeing a movie really shouldn’t involve _any_ arguments with _anyone_ , Donna sulked about it for two straight days. And when she tried to apologize just to reestablish the peace, it somehow started a whole new argument about Martha needing to grow a backbone and not let Donna bully her. 

_That_ one only ended when Martha finally lost it and somehow it all led to some frankly fantastic make up sex and some very mixed signals about whether or not Donna liked to be shouted at. 

* * *

Donna was kind and she cared about Martha in an earnest, honest, way that made Martha’s eyes prick sometimes. Martha was used to having to fight for her place at the table and then having to sit so, so still, to avoid making waves. Donna told anyone who would listen how brilliant Martha was and it was hard to be so mad about the constant arguments, when so many of them were rooted in Donna thinking that someone failed to give Martha the respect she deserved. 

Contrarily, Donna tried to weasel out of her own encouragements, blustering any excessive praise away. It took months for her to ask for another promotion and then when the department head offered her managerial power she nearly talked herself back out of it. Martha had to argue about that for the better part of a week before she begrudgingly gave in, and only then as positive reinforcement for Martha putting up a fight. 

* * *

They both had nightmares sometimes. Martha would wake with the bitter taste of ash in her mouth and the sounds of millions of people screaming in her ears. Donna would stroke her back and hold her close, murmuring sweet nothings against her forehead or temple. She’d promise that she’d listen if Martha would just tell her what was wrong. She swore she wouldn’t judge her. But the two times Martha tried, it just triggered the reset. 

Some nights, Donna pleaded and cried and gripped whatever she could get her hands on like it was the only thing keeping her from falling to pieces. Martha woke with bruises on her upper arms and Donna looked so guilty she started wearing thicker sleeves to sleep. 

Sometimes Martha could make out words. The night she caught “Doctor,” whispered like a prayer, she woke Donna up and caught the brief flash of gold in the dark before it was all walled off again. 

It made Martha want to scream and cry and rail against the uncaring Universe, but Donna just blinked at her, wiped blank once more, and mumbled, “Sorry, was I snoring?” 

* * *

Two months in, Martha knocked her phone off the bedside table and accidentally mumbled something the Doctor used to say that she’d always assumed was some sort of low-level insult in Gallifreyan. 

“Love you too,” Donna answered absently.

Martha choked. “What?!” 

“What?” Donna looked over, going hazy. 

“What did you just say?” Martha asked. 

Donna blinked in that sleepy way she had when the failsafe triggered. “You said something. I was just answering.” 

“What did _I_ say?” Martha tried again doggedly. 

“Hm?” Donna blinked her eyes wide and sat up with a sniff. “What?” 

Martha stared at her. “Are you serious?”

“Serious about what?” Donna asked. 

“You just― You can’t just―!“ Martha gave it up as a bad job, rolling to her feet. “I can’t believe―!”

Donna watched her worriedly. “Did I miss something?” 

Martha opened her mouth and closed it. “This is completely unfair!” 

Donna started to look a bit worried. “What did I do?”

“Nothing,” Martha spat, tugging a shirt on and shoving her way into joggers. 

“…You’re looking awfully worked up for ‘nothing,’” Donna said drily. 

“Never mind! I can’t ask without triggering― Just never mind!” 

Donna frowned, clearly trying to play back the last few minutes. “Martha, whatever I said, I didn’t mean to upset―“

“It’s fine!” Martha said. “It’s just― _That’s_ what that means?! I always thought he was just cursing! He was― That was―“ She felt a very real urge to pull out her own hair. “This isn’t fair!” 

Donna’s embarrassed look was quickly giving way to a more defensive scowl. “Oi! Whatever I said, I _just_ apologized. I can’t very well―“

“I have to go,” Martha cut her off, yanking on trainers and scrambling for her keys. 

“You _what?!_ ”

“I’m not mad,” she thought to add. “But I― I can’t be here right now. I just― I have to go. Take a walk. Clear my head.” She grabbed her phone, wallet and jacket and figured that was plenty. “I’ll see you tonight.” She slammed out of the flat before Donna could do much more than squawk indignantly. 

“Oi!” 

“Of all the―“ Martha whirled on the statue of Buddha that her neighbor had added to the lawn. “I’m a good person! I don’t deserve this!” 

The Buddha smiled back, unconcerned. 

“Martha?!” Donna’s head popped out of the upstairs window. “What on Earth―?!”

“I’ll see you later!” she called back, zipped up her jacket and _ran_. 

Once she’d made it a sufficient distance she slowed down just enough to pull out her phone, dialing Jack. 

He picked up on the fifth ring. “Is that my favorite nightingale?” 

“Did the Doctor ever say things to you in Gallifreyan?” Martha asked immediately. 

“Oh, hello, Martha. I’m well, and yourself?” 

“I’m serious, Jack!” 

Jack snorted, but said, “Sure. Every once in a while.”

“How about…?” Martha carefully enunciated the foreign syllables, which always felt like they were trying to trip over her tongue.

“Sure, that sounds familiar,” he said, sounding a bit muffled, like he’d put the phone up to his shoulder. “Why? Thinking of starting a very niche Duolingo program over at UNIT?”

“Do you know what it means?” Martha continued, jogging more lightly now. 

“Say it again?” 

She repeated it, tongue knotting. 

“Yeah, I remember that… Based on context, I’d guess… some sort of exclamation? Like the Gallifreyan version of ‘fantastic?’”

“Why do you say that?”

She could almost hear him shrug. “He’d pull it out when Rose or I did something brilliant. Usually Rose. What’s up with that, by the way? I’m plenty brilliant, you know.” He turned to someone on the other end of the line. “Why don’t _you_ tell me how brilliant I am?”

Ianto’s droll tone came through in the background. “I was under the impression you already knew. Being so brilliant and all.” 

Jack scoffed, but Martha was still processing. “I thought it was a curse. Something like ‘damn it.’” 

“Well, you could always ask him if it’s bugging you this much,” Jack said doubtfully. Neither one of them had any hope that the Doctor would take a call ‘just to check something.’ 

Martha finally slowed to a stop by a pond. “I accidentally said it in front of Donna just now, and she responded like she knew what it meant.”

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Jack drawled, clearly still distracted. “So? What did it mean?” 

“I said it and she said―“ Martha swallowed. “She said ‘love you too.’”

Jack was immediately much more attentive. “What, sarcastically?”

“No,” Martha said, dropping her voice low like a confession. “She said it automatically. The way you do when someone says it first.” 

“Hang on.” There was a long pause, followed by a great deal of rustling. And then Jack came back, much more clearly. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Martha said. “She forgot right after. But… I’m sure, Jack.” 

Jack puffed out a breath loudly enough to be heard over the phone. “I’ve had a lot of confessions of love over the years, but I have to say, Martha Jones, this is in the top ten strangest.” 

Martha laughed a bit hysterically. “Only top ten?” 

“Well…” Jack laughed too. “I’ve lived a very long time.” He trailed off for a moment and Martha noticed she couldn’t hear anyone else in the background. “…Do you think he really…?”

“Enough to say it in a language no one else speaks,” Martha said. “Not quite sure how to take that, if I’m honest.” 

“Huh,” Jack said, sounding younger than usual. “Well. That’s…” He huffed out another breath. “Huh.” 

“I thought you’d want to know,” Martha said awkwardly. “Was I―?”

“Oh, no, I definitely want to know. Anything like this comes up, you go ahead and assume I absolutely want to know,” Jack assured her immediately. “…What did you tell Donna?” 

“Oh, I did the adult thing and ran the hell out of there,” Martha said with a nervous laugh.

“You _ran away?_ ” Jack asked loudly. 

“She didn’t remember saying it!” Martha said defensively. “And it― There’s a lot to process here!” 

Jack laughed outright. “And you thought your best bet was to just book it out of there? What did you tell her??”

“I said I had to go. And I wasn’t mad. And I’d be back tonight.”

Jack whistled. “ _I’m_ not going to lecture you on relationship etiquette, but based on 21st century standards, she might be expecting a little more than that.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time someone says ‘I love you’ for the first time on behalf of herself and a nutter alien I used to follow around like a lovesick puppy!”

Jack laughed, far too entertained. “I’m starting to regret begging out of ‘girl talk’ all this time. Is this what it’s always like or are you just a special case?” 

“Oh, you’re no help!” Martha huffed. “I’m hanging up now!” 

“Try not to accidentally propose to anyone on your way back to the flat!” Jack laughed. 


	9. Exercises

The first time Donna came out on assignment, it was a fairly simple reconnaissance run. Torchwood had already scoped it, but one of the security guards knew Gwen so they needed someone new to get inside.

Donna volunteered before Martha could even think about stopping her so she just volunteered as well. And that was how they found themselves at a nondescript office building at 11AM, looking around for anything that might indicate alien interference. 

It was a sea of grey suits and pencil skirts and Donna stuck out like a piñata even in her boxy black pantsuit, but they were escorted right in without incident. 

The work was fantastically dull, but Donna seemed happy to be out and about so Martha kept that judgment to herself. Donna took the lead, settling in to burrow through files while Martha pretended to type something up in case someone stopped by. A couple of hours later, they had a neat little paper-trail proving an abuse of interplanetary labor regulations and the next day the whole operation was shut down under UNIT jurisdiction. 

Donna was formally promoted to field access and hummed to herself for the next three days.

* * *

Martha knew, logically, that someone with fugue states triggered by everything from bees to 4H pencils in a mug probably shouldn’t be faffing about with aliens, but Donna was just so happy. Martha meant to come along and keep watch for anything dangerous, but she ended up chasing the danger down herself half the time and Donna laughed like it was all a great adventure and it was easy to get swept up in the adrenaline.

As always, Torchwood was more than happy to enable their thrill seeking. Jack would send over leads they all knew he could handle himself, and Donna would tease him about needing a woman’s touch, and sometimes they’d all go together just for the camaraderie. 

The first time Jack died and came back to life, it took far too long to realize that _wasn’t_ , in fact, one of Donna’s triggers. And by the time they realized she wasn’t going to just magically forget, she was well on her way to an epic freakout. 

“It’s really fine,” Martha tried to reassure her, _sotto voce_. “He’s fine now!” 

“But he was dead!” Donna’s voice jumped up, far too loud for the decommissioned teleport they were supposed to be hiding in. “Martha, he _died!_ And now he’s just― What the _bloody hell_ is going on?!” 

“I’m immortal,” Jack said, grimacing at the hole in his favorite coat. “I don’t stay dead.”

“What, _that’s_ a thing now?!” Donna whisper-shrieked.

Martha tried to shush her. “Donna, you really have to keep your voice down.”

“Our friend can’t _die_ and you’re worried I’m _making an inappropriate scene?!?_ ”

Martha clapped her hand over Donna’s mouth, but she was surprisingly hard to keep a hold of, considering Martha didn’t want to actually hurt her. 

Jack leaned in, grabbed Donna’s chin around Martha’s hand, and clearly said the Gallifreyan equivalent of “I love you.” 

“Jack!” Martha gasped, horrified, but Donna was already going slack in her grip, eyes flashing. 

She pulled her hand away and Donna blinked up at her, briefly, heartbreakingly lucid, before she sucked in a breath and sat up, shaking her head. “...Did something happen?” 

Martha couldn’t for the life of her think of what to say, but Jack came in with a curt, “I’ll tell you about it later,” and that, somehow, was that.

* * *

They decided to just tell her in a controlled environment this time, back at the Hub. 

“Jack’s immortal,” Donna repeated dully. “That’s― I’m just supposed to take that in, am I?” 

Martha gave a wobbly nod, and Ianto and Gwen shrugged like it was a mildly embarrassing family secret they tried not to bring up in mixed company. 

“Immortal,” Donna said again, voice flat. “That’s a _thing_ now?” 

Martha looked to Jack who straightened his shoulders and said, “You saw it happen earlier. I just made you forget to keep you from getting yourself killed.” 

Donna nearly fell out of her chair. “You _what?!_ ” 

“Don’t try to remember it!” he said quickly. “You’ll end up resetting and we’ll just have to do this again. It’s not my favorite conversation, you know!” 

“Jack!” Martha gasped, scandalized. “You can’t just―”

“I―” Donna visibly struggled against the urge to try to recall. “Really?” She looked to Martha, eyes wide. “You can _do_ that?” 

“You were really freaking out!” Martha said guiltily. “They’d already shot Jack; they clearly weren’t opposed to using lethal force. And you were going to give us away before Gwen and Ianto could― I’m so sorry! I wouldn’t have― I’m sorry!” 

Donna stared at her like she’d just confessed to eating human hearts. 

“I was the one who did it,” Jack said, drawing her attention. “Sorry,” he added belatedly. 

Donna’s expression became very hard to make out. “...So you’re _really_ immortal?” 

“Really immortal,” he confirmed. 

“...You’ll never die,” she said slowly. 

Jack held up a finger. “I die all the time. It just doesn’t take.” He held his coat open, showing the scorched holes through it and his shirt. Donna reached over like she was going to touch the unblemished skin underneath, but she stopped short of contact, hovering. “It’s fine, really,” Jack assured her. 

Donna touched two fingers to the space over his heart and glanced back up. “How old are you?”

Jack seemed to have to think about it. “A little over two-thousand and fifty. I think.” 

“What?” Martha couldn’t keep from chiming in. “You were a hundred-something when we met.” 

Jack shrugged. “Things happened.” 

Donna’s eyes went very wide and she pulled her hand back. “Well,” she said. “Anything else I should know?”

“We have a pterodactyl,” Ianto said helpfully.

* * *

Martha apologized over and over, feeling guiltier each time. 

“It’s okay,” Donna said finally. “Just… Can you _try_ not to do it? Unless it’s an emergency?”

“Life or death only,” Martha promised immediately. 

Donna gave her an odd, careful look. “And can you… not tell people?”

“I didn’t even mean to tell Jack!” Martha admitted. “It just― I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again!” She could feel tears pricking behind her eyes, but swallowed them back. “I’m so sorry!” 

“It’s all right,” Donna said slowly. “We’re all right.” 

Martha kissed her a bit desperately, but Donna returned it with only a moment’s hesitation. 

Later, when they were curled under the covers like children hiding from the dark, Donna pressed a gentle kiss to Martha’s head and sighed. “I know I’m asking a lot of you.” Her breath was warm on Martha’s skin. “You can say if it’s too much.” 

“It’s not too much!” Martha clutched her closer. “I love you!” 

Donna breath hitched a little, but she only said, “I love you too.” 


	10. Carrying On

They resumed fieldwork, but didn’t do joint runs with Torchwood for a bit. UNIT’s cases tended to be more bureaucratic, but that suited Donna just fine and Martha wasn’t going to complain about not getting shot at all the time. 

They were both thrill-seekers though, at the heart of it. UNIT had access to all kinds of intel, and alien technology didn’t seem to set Donna off more than anything else. Martha privately suspected she just hadn’t been paying that close attention when the Doctor was rambling on.

They didn’t think twice before taking on a clearance operation. It should have been a matter of collecting evidence and setting a controlled implosion. No muss, no fuss. 

Only the software designed to wipe the systems tripped a security protocol and shut off all power sources, including their Project Indigo packs. The power surge also fried the remote detonators, and Martha saw the countdown start just before the screen went dark. She hated herself for wondering if she should’ve just left Donna alone. Maybe the Doctor had been right. 

Donna, meanwhile, had spotted a deactivated teleportation pod and was eyeing the base. “This looks like a teleporter. Do you think this is a teleporter?”

“It looks like a _fried_ teleporter,” Martha said. 

Donna squinted down at the alien settings, biting her lip. 

“I’d say we should run for it, but…” Martha looked around, doing some hasty mental maths. “...I’m pretty sure we’d never get far enough anyway. Want to start tearing out wires? Not like we can make it worse, right?” She started cycling through any standard sequence she could think of without a whole lot of hope. 

Donna snapped her head up, “Have I seen something like this before?” 

“What?” Martha tried another sequence, getting another negative flash of lights. 

“It looks familiar. But I can’t quite…” Donna grabbed her hand. “Martha, say something to set me off.” 

“What?” Martha eyed her worriedly. “Why would I―?”

“I have this feeling…” Donna shook her head, squaring her shoulders. “You said you could trigger the memories sometimes. Can you do it now?” 

“Donna, you’ll just be that much more confused―”

“I can fix this!” Donna interrupted. “I think I―” She gave Martha a desperate, pleading look. “ _Please_ just try it!” 

Martha carefully enunciated the syllables for “I love you” in Gallifreyan and watched as the rings burst open in Donna’s irises. 

“Ah,” Donna said. “Molto bene!” She immediately plucked four wires, twisted them together in pairs, and tapped a fourteen-symbol sequence into the panel at the top. The lights flashed green and the whole room lurched, transporting them out of the blast radius.

They rematerialized in the abandoned Rattigan Academy and Donna gasped, doubling over. 

“Oh my God!” Martha caught her before she could hit the ground. “Are you all right?!” 

“I’m always all right,” Donna mumbled and slumped unconscious. 

* * *

Donna woke up halfway through Martha’s frantic scan, complaining of a terrible headache. Martha thought she was going to lose her own mind, but Donna was just quietly nonplussed. 

“I know it’s never knocked me out before, but you should really calm down,” Donna said, stroking her arm. “I’m perfectly fine!” 

“Don’t ever do that again!” Martha snapped, yanking her into a hug.

“Great advice for the amnesiac,” Donna said sarcastically, but patted her back. 

* * *

Martha called Jack after that one. He answered the phone with a sardonic, “Oh, is my nightingale no longer mad at me?”

“I think she’s getting worse,” Martha said without preamble. 

“How so?” Jack asked, voice carefully neutral. 

Martha dropped her voice as low as she could. “It knocked her out the last time. But before that she― I think she was really remembering. Not just bits and pieces― It was like on the Crucible.”

“Now that _is_ interesting,” Jack said, and she hated the way he sounded intrigued instead of worried. And she hated the way she found it a little comforting. 

“Could we come out this weekend? Maybe run some new scans?” 

Jack sighed. “ _I’m_ not the one who―”

“I’ll get Donna to agree,” Martha promised. “Just― could we?” 

“Always,” Jack said easily. 

* * *

There was nothing new on the scans, but Donna no longer flinched away from Jack after the first half hour and that seemed like progress to be glad for either way. By the afternoon, she was back to laughing and asking about the pterodactyl she still hadn’t gotten a look at. And once the dinosaur came out and Jack showed Donna how to win her over with chocolate, all issues seemed to be forgotten. 

Donna pulled Jack aside before they headed out to drinks and when they came back the immortal seemed oddly subdued. When Martha finally managed to corner him, she immediately launched in with her standard defense of Donna’s argumentative approach, “Whatever she said, I’m sure―“

He cut her off. “She asked me to only use the reset in emergencies.” He glanced over at where Donna was back to plying the pterodactyl with chocolate. “She said it like she trusted me.” 

“Well, of course she trusts you,” Martha said. “Why do you think she’s been so―?”

“I thought it was the immortal thing,” Jack said. “Some people… it can be an issue.” 

Martha didn’t know what to say so she just hugged him. And Jack never turned down a hug. 

“Unless you two are negotiating a threesome, I’d better not see any wandering hands!” Donna called out. 

Martha pulled back, but left an arm around his waist. “Donna, don’t hit on Jack. It’s the first step to ending up in that bunker under his office.”

* * *

Just like that, everything was back to normal. Martha and Donna carried on saving the world one inconsistent paper trail at a time. Jack rocked up for fieldwork and drinks. And Donna even seemed to be doing better, going blank less and less. Jack suggested she might be healing over whatever had happened. Donna said it was probably Martha learning the patterns like the clever clogs she was. 

Martha just tried not to wait for the other shoe to drop. 


	11. The End

The end came not with a battle or a war, but with a series of escalating miscalculations. An unassuming manufacturing company somehow got their hands on alien equipment and, apparently having no self-preservation instinct, immediately plugged it in to their assembly line. The whole plant went haywire the second they flipped the switch and by the time Martha and Donna arrived for what was supposed to be a routine inspection, it was minutes away from becoming the next Three Mile Island. 

They’d switched to an evacuation plan, getting everyone out in what had to be record time. But when they started in on the disarming protocols, it turned out the alien failsafe was the equivalent of flash radiation. 

It was just a combination of bad circumstances. But that didn’t change the fact that Martha was about to basically be microwaved. 

She could see Donna getting more frantic on the other side of the chamber door. She was brilliant, but not so brilliant that she’d be able to guess her way through alien designs in less than three minutes. 

Donna was practically pulling out her hair, trying to make sense of a design that was never intended for their species. It was built for three more limbs and several senses humans wouldn’t ever evolve to have. 

“It’s okay,” Martha said, mouthing the words as clearly as she could. “Just stay back.” 

“No!” Donna mouthed. And even through the muted glass, Martha knew she was shouting. She said something else, turning away, checking the countdown, and turning back. “I won’t leave you!” 

“You can’t do anything,” Martha said, over enunciating. “You have to go. It’s okay. Really.”

“No!” Donna got a wild look in her eyes and spun back to the controls. She pulled something out of her pocket, bending over it like she was concentrating. A gold chain glinted against her knuckles, and it looked like the funny little pill-shaped bauble she never seemed to remember to throw out. 

“…Donna?” Martha called, even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to hear. She tapped at the reinforced glass. “What are you―?” 

Donna bent nearly double like she’d been punched in the stomach and then jerked upright, eyes glowing bright gold. 

“No!” Martha shouted. “You can’t! It’s too dangerous!” She slammed her palms into the door, but it absorbed the impact easily. 

Not that Donna would have noticed either way. She was frantically twisting dials and flipping switches, grimacing and hunched, but moving faster than she should have been able to. 

The chamber lights flickered and the door decompressed. 

Donna’s voice came through, muttering a loop of, “Not yet! Not yet! Not yet!” 

Martha shoved her way out of the chamber, making a beeline for the glowing ginger. “Oh, God, Donna! It’s never gotten this bad before!” 

“Don’t have to tell _me!_ ” Donna said between gritted teeth. 

“What can I do?” Martha’s hand hovered over her arms, not sure where to even begin. 

Donna caught her hand, squeezing. “Call the Doctor.” 

“I’ve tried!” Martha admitted, fighting down hysteria. If Donna could remember the Doctor, she must have only moments left. “After― he turned it back off!” 

Donna bared her teeth and gold mist leaked through. “Please call him,” she gritted out. 

Martha pulled the phone out and dialed, passing it over. The faint tones of her own voicemail came through, but Donna was tearing wires out of the control panel and knotting them together, throwing sparks and setting off all sorts of alarm patterns. She fused the phone into the mess, hissing as a stray jolt caught her knuckles, but she held it down with one hand, punching commands into the alien dash with her other. 

The whole display lit up like Chernobyl and a moment later the TARDIS wheezed into existence. 

Martha gawked at it. “How did you―?”

“Doc-tor!” Donna howled, just as he came hurtling out. 

“Donna?! Martha?! Donna!?! What happened?!?”

“I need you to take it back,” Donna managed to choke past the convulsions and the spreading toxic light. “The regeneration energy. It’s yours. Take it back!” 

“I can’t!” But he was bracing her up, running frantic hands over her hair and face. “Donna, I can’t draw it out of you!” 

“You can _now,_ ” she wheezed, gripping his sides like it was the only thing keeping her from falling to literal pieces. “You’re already regenerating. I set the call to follow―“ She doubled over, ducking into his chest. “Please try!” He was nodding, but she couldn’t see that, so the hands on her face and neck must have been a surprise, but she only gasped another, “Please!”

He bent her head back and sealed his mouth over hers. Then the whole room exploded in light. 

* * *

Martha jolted upright and immediately spotted Donna, slumped by the ruined control panel. “Donna?” she called, but it came out hoarse. She army crawled her way over, reaching with shaking hands. “…Donna?” 

Donna took in a deep shuddering breath and then groaned. “ _Ow!_ ”

Martha nearly cried. “Donna! Are you all right?!” 

“Ugh.” Donna half-rolled, half-collapsed onto her side. “Don’t know about all right, but I hurt too much to be dead.” 

Martha laughed, but it came out a bit wet. “And do you… What do you remember?” 

Donna looked back at her more clearly than ever. “Everything,” she breathed.

“Really?!” Martha asked, but kissed her before she could answer. 

Donna kissed her right back, breath puffing frantically against her cheek, but when she tried to reach up she flinched and had to back off. 

“Oh, God, sorry!” Martha started checking her over. “Where does it hurt? Just let me―“ 

“It’s fine,” Donna groaned and yelped and there was a sound like several joints snapped back into place. “Just give it a minute,” she gasped through gritted teeth.

Martha jerked up, looking around. “Hang on― where’s the Doctor?” 

“Gone,” Donna choked and it sounded like a sob. “Regenerated now.” 

“It killed him?!” Martha sounded horrified even to her own ears.

Donna convulsed onto her back, but managed to gasp out, “He was already regenerating. I set the beacon to track the regeneration energy leaking out of me.” She choked on a whimper, slamming her fist into the ground, and then groaned as that bone-crunching sound started up again. 

“But if it worked, why are you―?” 

“It’s just taking a second to clear the dregs out of my system!” Donna panted like she was trying to breathe through broken ribs. Suddenly her eyes went wide and she sucked in air like she’d gained a whole new lung to fill. “Oh!” she gasped, falling back. “That’s― ok, that’s much better.” She blinked again, exhaling. “Hoo. Think it took a couple of years off.” She turned to Martha, impossibly focused. “There now. Sorry about that.” 

Martha gawked at her. “Donna, _what the hell_ is going on?!” 

Donna rolled upright, and pulled her along. “Had to give back that pesky Time Lord consciousness that’s been tearing around in here.” She knocked two knuckles against her own head. “Only way to get it out was via regeneration energy. And the only way he could absorb it was if he was already regenerating to begin with. So I had to time it just right.” She whistled, fluffing her fringe. “Cut it a bit close there, admittedly, but it’s all better now!” 

“So you…” Martha swallowed. “You remember everything now?” 

Donna nodded and flashed that impish smile she’d had when she first popped up after that jolt from Davros. “All my memories are back in place, including―“ She paused, frowning, and then pointed an accusatory finger. “ _That’s_ why you ran off that day?! Because I said I loved you too?!” 

Martha threw her hands up. “It was _a lot_ to take in!” 

“That’s just rude!” Donna griped, but went right back to grinning. “It’s a good thing I love you.” 

Martha was so busy bracing for accusations that she was totally unprepared to be yanked into a kiss instead. She was more than willing to adjust though. 

Just as she was seriously considering just going at it on the floor, a dry, unfamiliar voice came from far too nearby. “You humans really let hormones just run the place, don’t you?” 

They jerked apart, whipping around, and found a gangly young man with floppy hair standing next to the TARDIS, squinting incongruously ancient eyes at them. 

“Doctor?!” Donna gasped. 

He smiled, nothing like the cheery grin Martha was used to. “How do I look?” 

They both looked him up and down, and Martha said, “Young,” at the same time Donna said, “Gangly.” 

“Oi!” he chided, but his eyes crinkled at the corners. “See if I save _your_ life again!” 

Donna scoffed. “Try to leave fewer half-made Time Lord bits lying around this time. Could’ve told me I’d moved into Frankenstein’s lab!” She lurched to her feet and fairly launched herself at him, yanking him into a hug that he seemed all too happy to return. He mumbled something into her hair and she let him go, swiping at her eyes. “Yeah, well, don’t do it again!” 

Martha got up as well. “So you’re both all right now?”

“Right as rain!” the Doctor said cheerily and held his arms out. 

Martha couldn’t resist a hug any more than she ever could, gripping him close enough to hear both hearts against her ear. 

After a long moment, he shifted, and she was sure he was going to pull away, but he only freed one arm, pulling Donna in as well. 

“I love you,” he mumbled, and the alien syllables sounded like music even in his unfamiliar voice. 


	12. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Note the rating change for this chapter.)

“We really could go with him,” Martha said for the sixth time. “I don’t mind.” 

“You chose to leave,” Donna reminded her, moving around the flat, looking things over like she hadn’t been able to see anything properly before. 

Martha swallowed and forced herself to offer, “You could go without me. If that’s―“

Donna turned a sharp look on her. “Do you _want_ me to go?”

“No!” Martha said before she could stop herself. “I just― Donna, I know how much you’ve missed him. Even if you couldn’t remember…” Martha wished _she_ couldn’t remember the way Donna would sometimes bury her face between her shoulder blades and breathe little barely audible reassurances, clearly not meant for anyone from this world. 

Donna smiled, but it had a strange, somber undertone. “I’m sorry I’ve been putting you through all this. But… I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Martha shrugged and made herself say, “You don’t owe me anything. I don’t― Please don’t stay out of some sense of obligation.” She cringed even as she said it. 

Donna barked out a laugh. “Is that _really_ what you think?” She stepped into Martha’s space, hands wrapping around hers like slightly mismatched gloves. 

Martha held very still, willing herself not to flinch. “It’s all right, Donna. I won’t…” She swallowed and repeated, “It’s all right!” She couldn’t quite make herself meet whatever look she was sure to find in Donna’s eyes, watching the tendons shift in her neck instead. 

Donna sighed and Martha felt it on her own face. “Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.”

Martha took the words like a blade between the ribs and then realized what she’d actually said. Her head snapped up, already asking, “What?” And then, before she could stop herself, “Really?” 

Donna’s expression went painfully soft. “Of course not. You… you _saved_ me.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Martha objected. “You’re the one who figured it out! He’s the one who undid it!” 

Donna’s eyes were so bright. “Martha, you… Do I really have to say it?” Whatever she saw on Martha’s face made her sigh again, but she just brought her hands up to cup her cheeks. “You helped me when I was so far gone I didn’t even know what I’d lost.” Her fingertips traced Martha’s cheekbones. “How could I love you any less now that I have my whole heart back?” 

Hope welled hot and dangerous behind Martha’s eyes. “But you… you could travel the stars again.” Memories of Donna’s muffled pleas rang in her ears. “You could have it all back now.” 

Donna’s hands cupped her face, soft but firm. “You think I’d trade _you_ for some stars?” Her voice took on a tone too warm to be properly wry. “You’re supposed to be the clever one!” She tipped in for a slow kiss before Martha could really process that, and she leaned into the contact as immediately as ever. Donna’s hands slid down and back, dipping under Martha’s collar. “Could I… This is going to sound strange, but… could I look at you?” 

After so many months, the butterflies in Martha’s stomach were completely ridiculous, but she managed a nod and Donna set to unwrapping her with more care than she’d ever shown, even their first time together. Martha couldn’t quite match her reverent approach, but she managed not to tear anything and Donna pressed in just as warm and soft as ever, guiding them carefully toward the bedroom. 

“I feel like I’ve been half asleep,” Donna mumbled, not pulling back quite far enough to manage it clearly. “Or… like I went colorblind without noticing.” She traced a ticklish path down Martha’s sides like she was trying to map every dip and hollow. “You’re the only thing that feels the same.” 

Martha pulled her down with all four limbs. “ _I_ feel like I’ve been taking advantage,” she admitted. “But I didn’t mean to!” 

Donna just laughed, puffing warm air across her clavicle. “Is that _really_ what you’re worried about?” Her left hand curled under her breast and her right had somehow made its way lower, dipping in unexpectedly. “You know me better than anyone. Do you really think I’m _mad_ right now?”

Martha groaned, clutching her closer, and slipped her own hand down and in. “You do seem to be taking it pretty well,” she admitted. 

“Mm,” Donna hummed throatily, twisting them into an expertly awkward tangle. “Imagine you’d been dreaming, and some part of you knew that you were dreaming, but you couldn’t quite wake yourself up.” She made a fascinating rolling motion, pressing close enough that Martha could feel every curve against her own. “Now imagine waking from that dream and finding that the only good thing about it was still there. Just as real, and warm, and gorgeous as ever.” She mouthed her way up Martha’s cheek as she spoke, lips curling. “Could you imagine being anything other than grateful?” She breathed the question right up against Martha’s ear, making her shudder.

“Well,” Martha gasped. “When you say it like _that_ …” She let herself be convinced, the way she always let Donna convince her in the end, and she could feel Donna smile against her cheek, knowing the exact moment she’d won. “Don’t be smug!”

Donna laughed, only pressing closer. “You love it,” she insisted, fingers rippling expertly. 

Martha caught her in another kiss, stretching her neck uncomfortably, but it was easy to ignore with Donna writhing and clutching her just as close. 

It didn’t take long at all. Donna was the first to fall apart, gasping like it caught her by surprise. She pulled back and Martha blinked her eyes open to ask why, but she was just staring with that newly sharp look in her eyes as she mumbled, “Want to look.”

Martha tumbled over, biting her own lip, and Donna watched like she was witnessing the dawn of a galaxy.

* * *

Donna shifted, and Martha tensed, but she just wormed one hand underneath to press between her shoulder blades. “I’m not going anywhere.” Donna sighed against her neck. “Please believe me. I’ve never lied to you before.”

“Okay,” Martha mumbled, and tried to relax. “I _tried_ not to lie to you,” she couldn’t help but add.

Donna sighed again, but rolled in instead of away, tucking Martha underneath. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I knew I was asking a lot of you, but… I had no idea how much.”

“It wasn’t too much,” Martha assured her. “It’s not too much now. I just…” She heard a strange sound come out of herself, probably meant to be a laugh. “I’ve never had a conversation like this last this long with you!” 

Donna shifted, pulling away, but she was only reaching for the covers. She tugged them around and pushed back just enough to focus. “No reset button now. Want to try it again without the net?” 

Martha looked Donna over. “You sure you don’t want to take him up on it?” 

Donna scoffed. “If we change our minds we can always get him back here. The TARDIS won’t let him skip _my_ calls.”

“Hey!”

Donna shrugged, smirking. “She plays favorites. What can I say?” 

“You could not rub it in!” Martha suggested. 

Donna gave her a playful pout. “Want me to rub something else?”

Martha started laughing. “That’s a terrible line! Is _this_ what I have to look forward to?!” 

“I’ll show you what you can look forward to.” Donna leered. “But first, let’s get Jack out here and see how much we can mess with him before he figures it out! Resetting me like some malfunctioning router! Honestly!” 

Martha groped around the bedside table for her phone. “We’ll have a good three hours to kill while he gets out here.” 

Donna smiled, bright and brilliant. “I’m sure we can think of _something_ to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m also on [tumblr](https://1-of-those-things.tumblr.com/).


End file.
